The room erupts into chaos.

The nobles gasp, horrified. Servants scream. The guards rush forward.

But all of it—every sound, every movement—fades into nothing.

Because the only thing Callisto sees… is you.

Collapsing.

Your body slamming against the marble floor. The goblet slipping from your fingers, the last drops of poisoned wine spilling across the ground.

And then—red.

Not blood. Rage.

"NO!"

He moves before he can think. Before he can breathe.

One second, he’s at the table, glaring at the noble who dared challenge him—the next, he’s at your side, hands gripping your face, fingers trembling against your too-cold skin.

"What the hell did you do?" His voice is raw, furious, but you only smile weakly up at him.

"It… it was meant for you," you whisper.

And Callisto’s world shatters.

Because of course it was. Of course, some pathetic noble tried to poison him during the royal banquet. Of course, you noticed before he did. And of course—you drank it instead.

"You absolute idiot," he breathes, his voice shaking, ruby eyes burning.